


Woven Into Fate's Web

by BrokenHazelEyes



Series: OT4- Greg/Ed/Sam/Spike [31]
Category: Flashpoint
Genre: Alpha Ed, Alpha Greg, Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cuddling & Snuggling, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Spike, Other, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Scent Marking, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:11:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenHazelEyes/pseuds/BrokenHazelEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Apparently your mates didn’t take it too well that your scent—your heat scent—was on me.”<br/>“My scent should have faded off of you by now, and I’m not mated,” Spike looked at Lou blankly, “wait, you didn’t say mate; you said mates.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so very, very much for all the love, darlings, and I hope you enjoy. :)
> 
> A/N: I do not own Flashpoint, nor do I own the characters. I do not make a profit from my writing. However it's still my writing so please don't repost anywhere. Thanks!

Clogging the air, the scent of fear sat heavy in the atmosphere; it’s sickly, too sweet it’s almost putrid, and, though the people have left, overwhelming. Where there had been bodies, had been potential victims, there were now empty spaces left by the evacuation and emotions dancing in the sea of molecules.

The pavilion, hot under the afternoon sky, was a collage of tipped over chairs and bags left behind—all sure signs of a panicked escape. So far, there’s only three small tables that have been left upright; two are void of anything, and the third had a purse sitting gently on the interwoven metal.

The sides of the material were drawn down just slightly, only enough to see a wire peeking out, and it looked so odd; the purse was sitting perfectly impeccable on the steady surface, while the area around it looks like an absolute mess with items of remarkable variety strewn about.

It’s pretty much akin to walking in a mind field—the bomb tech mused, keeping an eye out for other devices while also trying to not crush phones or glasses under the heavy soles of his combat boots. He was thankful for the medication pumping through his veins—that the scents of alphas, of betas, of omegas, are so dulled to his nose that he can barely smell them at all. It was so much easier to concentrate that way, so his brain wasn’t overwhelmed and sprinting to categorize each fragrance into a category. His own scent was hidden under a layer of scent blockers, but it had been a long day and it was slowly fading—allowing his natural aroma to seep through his pores and into the air.

It probably hadn’t helped that Spike had taken a dive into a lake after a subject, and he hadn’t had time to smear the blockers back over his skin before he was rushing off on a bomb call.

Finally, emerging from the ocean of random items, the bomb tech switched channels—after informing his sergeant—and went to work on the device sitting before him; hands steady and gentle, mind focused and clear. The wires slipped apart under the sharp edge of his scissors, and the timer halted; the red numbers pausing at a minute and six seconds.

With a small grin, Spike stepped back and gave the all-clear before gathering up the device in his hands and walking towards the disposal truck—eyes instinctively searching for anything that might be another device, as you could never be too careful. He got rid of the bomb, carefully placing in in the container, and walked towards the SUVs with pride and sugary accomplishment in his blood.

The rest of Team Two was gathered around in a loose-knit circle, and Lou was briskly walking towards him with a shaking head, arms held up in front of him, and a bruise darkening his temple. He couldn’t smell anything, not really, not even the worry pouring off Lou in droves, but he could hear growling and that alone sets off the alarms hardwired in his head.

Spike opened his mouth, went to speak, but Lou slashed a thumb across his own throat with another shake of his head—so the bomb tech stayed silent, letting his teammate guide him away from the scene and towards one of the SRU vehicles parked a little bit away. They didn’t speak, but Spike nearly did—questioning, in his mind, why Lou was walking just behind him; almost like he was a shield. After the two slid into the car, windows shut and engine purring to a start, Lou let out a large gust of air and spoke into the radio while giving Spike an exhausted and annoyed look.

“Okay, we’re good. We’ll meet you guys back at the Barn.”

Realizing he hadn’t switched his radio back to the frequency everyone else was on, Spike quickly changed channels and listened to the last clip of his team leader’s response.

“—see you there.”

“What happened?” Spike asked, but Lou only shook his head once more and barked out a shaky laugh. The bruise was frightening, a ghastly looking thing that was going to linger for a week or more, and it made confusion and anger war within the omega.

“You know, Spike, when I said you were _special_ I meant it as an insult, a joke.” Lou sighed, silent for a second as he slowed to a stop at a light and drummed his fingers on the car’s wheel.

“I don’t understand,” the brunette confessed, “What happened? Who hit you?”

His friend seemed to mull over his answer, pressing down on the gas pedal as soon as the signal turned green, and rubbed a hand over his lower face like there was a bruise hiding somewhere under his flesh.

“You know how I came over a couple days ago, and we played video games?”

“Yeah,” Spike nodded, “I was in heat, but I had scent blockers on. What does that have to do with this?”

“Apparently your mates didn’t take it too well that your scent—your _heat_ scent—was on me.”

“My scent should have faded off of you by now, and I’m not mated,” Spike looked at Lou blankly, “wait, you didn’t say _mate_ ; you said mate **s**.”

“You sent three alphas into rut, Spike,” Lou sighed, and the bomb tech’s eyes widened, “three alphas from _Team One_. Why can’t your intended mates be ones that, I don’t know, can’t nearly choke me to death or just about give me a concussion? I’m a beta; I shouldn’t have to get caught up in this alpha-omega stuff.” The man grumbled.

Spike winced.

“So what’s going to happen now?”

“Well, we’re going to go debrief with the rest of the team, and then I’m going to go home and find the harshest soap available and scrub myself until I bleed—I’m not going through that again. And the next time I come over during one of your heats, I’m wearing a hazmat suit.”

Spluttering out a laugh, Spike felt the anxiety and tension slowly slip from his body as they pulled into the SRU’s HQ.

Fluttering in the air were the unspoken words: _Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want._

 

* * *

 

It—some teenager’s poorly shot phone-video of the incident—made the news, that night, and Spike wasn’t sure if he wanted to hide a corner or watch with some twisted pride—but he pushed that down quickly, rolling his eyes at his own thoughts. That only lasted a bit, though, and the bomb tech slowly un-paused the T.V. screen with an exhale.

_Lou walked back towards Donna—who was talking to Team One, and everyone there knew that they were only here to see Spike; see if this was the man they wanted to replace their old bomb tech—while keeping an eye on his friend out in the field._

_“Hey L—,” the woman was cut off, and Lou hit the ground with a heavy weight bearing down on his chest. He looked up, seeing the bald team leader hovering above his prone frame, and the non-lethal weapons expert tried to push him off with a grunt but was rewarded instead with loud growl and a hand clamping around his throat._

_Air cut off, he scrambled for purchase but nothing freed him—not kicking, not clawing, and his hand started to reach for his sidearm but the grip around his trachea only tightened and his arm was twisted painfully. Anger, hate, worry, fear, and a cocktail of other emotions poured off of the man—and his lips were curled up in a showing of teeth._

_“WHERE ARE THEY?” Ed Lane barked, icy blue eyes churning like a stormy sea, and Lou saw Donna try and pry the man off of him—but the sniper just ignored her grip, standing up and pushing the other man into angry hands. A blow slammed against Lou’s temple, and the Team Two member sagged against the arms holding him as a snarl erupted far too close to his ear._

_“WHERE’S OUR MATE?” Lou looked up, seeing the usually cheerful yet serious sergeant of Team One, towering above his half-collapsed form, next to the team leader. The alpha’s hands were clenched tight into fists, but it was Ed’s hand that was bloody with a slit over one of his knuckles. With a quick twitch of his head, he saw the familiar face of Sam Braddock behind him—the blonde sniper had a firm grip on him, and his gaze was deadly, his teeth gritted tight together as he nearly vibrated with energy._

_Lou swore under his breath, careful to not look over and check on Spike lest the alpha trio caught on—even in their current feral state—as the question was repeated; the words were spat into his face._

_“WHERE. IS. OUR. MATE?” Sam’s hot breath ghosted across Lou’s neck, dangerously close. The animalistic need to find and protect was jumping from nerve to nerve; aided on by the adrenaline and the knowledge of the strength under their skin._

_“Not here,” Lou lied, “Now let me go, Braddock!”_

_Greg’s eyes narrowed, too wild, and the negotiator tensed up even more—and Ed caught on quick, grabbing Lou by the chin even as dozens of hands tried to pull them apart. His grip was crushing, and the non-lethal expert thought his mandible was going to be pulled from its hinge._

_“Last chance,” Ed seethed, fingers tightening and Lou winced, trying to jerk away but to no success, “Where. Are. They?”_

_Thankfully, Lou felt himself being jerked from the alpha trio—and uniformed officers and the rest of the two teams swarmed around the rutting men; but his throat still burned, like the pheromones the men were releasing were toxic chemicals. The lingering scent of Spike that had been, somehow, clinging to his flesh was now completely gone—in its place was the rough pheromones of bomb tech’s three fated mates. A warning, a threat, a **promise**. _

_Then the man saw Spike, walking towards the fray, and was quick to cut him off and get him into the safety of the vehicles._

Spike turned the television off with a simple click; his heart was racing, pulse thrumming, and there was something churning in his gut with a ferocity he hadn’t before encountered. He’d only felt something close to this when he’d faced bombs that had made him doubt his abilities—could he do it, should he _try_?

…but he’d never backed down from any of those challenges.

And he didn’t plan to start now.

 

* * *

 

The bomb tech stared at his locker, and Lou—next to him, at his own locker—was trying to remain stoic and annoyed but the beta gave in and laughed, even at Spike’s thin-lipped glare of warning.

“I thought they were still on rut-leave,” Spike growled, sending up a prayer of thanks that he’d remembered his medication.

“Well, I guess they know who you are now.” Lou shrugged, pointing at the well-worn military t-shirt hanging up in the omega’s locker, “That’s Sam’s, by the way. And all three of their scents are all over your locker.”

“Wonderful,” Spike groaned, just barely able to smell the scent of alpha under the haze of his medicine.

“Hey, you’re just as bad when you’re in heat,” Lou laughed, stepping into his uniform pants.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Spike bit out, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

“You get really touchy-feely with what you consider ‘yours’,” Lou waved his hands in the air with a huff, “I mean, your entire house is scented beyond belief during your time of the month.”

“There’s a difference between me scenting stuff _in my house_ ,” Spike stressed, “and my alphas spreading their scent all over my stuff!”

“You said ‘ _my_ alphas’,” Lou smirked, and Spike turned red as he stormed from the locker room towards the briefing room with a grinning non-lethal expert on his tail.

 

* * *

 

Spike coughed, expelling the dust collecting in his lungs, as the rubble shifted around him—whoever had made that bomb was a genius; they’d modified the timer so it was displaying the countdown three minutes slower than it actually was. That, and it was the seventh high-tech bomb the maker had created.

More rubble shifted around him, but the debris didn’t collapse onto him like his mind feared. Instead, the bomb tech managed to haul himself up and make his way, slowly, towards where the entrance had, formerly, been.

When he stumbled out into the light, head pounding, a pair of arms caught his near-fall to the ground and steadied him. The hands were pressed firm against his back, and a nose was buried in the crook of his neck—the air creasing his sensitive skin making him want to squirm.

Then he caught the aroma from the person holding him—and he didn’t have the time to realize that his medication had worn off in the 26 hour pursuit of bomb threats across the city.

His thoughts melted, and his limbs went limp with contentment and the promise of safety as the alpha hauled Spike up into his arms—and the omega nearly purred, perfectly happy with molding to Greg’s shape as the other two alphas came out of the woodwork. Ed’s hand carded through the bomb tech’s hair, a wicked grin on his cheeky face, and Sam was peering at anyone nearby with a careful glance.

The brunette curled tight against the negotiator’s chest, clinging on firmly, and pressed his cheek against the man’s collarbone—aware he looked ridiculous, covered in gray ash and building material debris while being held like a baby even though he was full grown man in tactical gear.

But Spike couldn’t be bothered to care; too content to just breathe in the scents of the men surrounding him.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” Lou sighed over the radio, the voice fuzzily filtering through the bomb tech’s earpiece.

Spike vaguely grunted his approval, too busy basking in the slowly-forming bond zipping under his skin and lighting up the areas where his mates were touching him.

The rumbling of the sergeant’s chest below his ear lulled Spike to sleep, as he was already half-gone from chasing and disarming devices past the all-day mark—and he wound up as tight as he could, then went limp with a relaxed yawn and trusted the three alphas around him to take care of the situation.

It couldn’t go any worse than last time.

 

* * *

 

Spike woke up feeling more secure than he’d ever felt in his life—and after blinking his eyes into focus, he slowly took in his surroundings while holding back another yawn.

He was covered in at least three blankets, bundled tight around him, in his own bed. He could feel, just under the artificial warmth of the blankets, the precursors of heat—but it was hours away, just beginning to slip into his bloodstream.

Then he heard breathing that wasn’t his own, and with a start the bomb tech looked down at the floor—and nearly laughed at the three alphas sleeping, curled up together in a pile, on the floor. Their scents were everywhere, covering the room and the blankets currently wrapped around him, and Spike smiled at the warm feeling it brought to his already heating-up blood.

Slipping off the bed, the brunette flopped in the middle of the alpha-pile and brought the blankets tumbling behind him like a cape fluttering to the ground.

Sam looked up, hair askew, and scooted over so Spike could slip into the configuration before moving in closer and arranging the blankets back around the omega. Ed and Greg helped, hands steady even though they both looked tired, and soon Spike was back in the cocoon of his mates’ scents—it soaked under his skin, burying into his cells.

Ed pretty much rolled atop the bomb tech, and Greg pawed at the brunette’s hair with tender fingers. Their arms were all-encompassing, holding Spike still and offering protection and safety and love.

“Get some sleep,” Ed rumbled, pressing soft kisses to the side of the omega’s head, while the two other alphas rumbled low in their chests to show approval. “You’ll need it.”

Spike laughed, trying to bring his arms out of the nest of blankets but the three alphas tightened their hold and snuggled closer—mouthing at the bomb tech’s neck, pressing their weight insistently and comfortingly against their younger lover.

“Sleep, Spike,” Greg reverberated softly, and the bomb tech wiggled until he was comfortable before relaxing in the three men’s holds.

“Love you,” he whispered under his breath, just low enough for them to hear, and grinned—falling fast off the edge into sleep—at the heartfelt answers he received.


	2. Chapter 2

Spike woke up to heat in his veins, arousal in his arteries, and a crawling sensation just under his skin. Trying to twist out of the blanket-straightjacket he’d been swaddled in, the bomb tech let a small whine slip past his lips; he fought valiantly against the layers overheating him, clawing for freedom.

A rough growl stopped him, and the brunette froze under the icy blue eyes of Ed—and he watched the two other alphas wake up, their gazes steady and _wanting_. Then hands slowly unfurled his prison of mantles, and heat-scent rushed into the room unchecked and uncontrolled. Spike could feel the wet patch between his legs, smearing onto the too-large boxers that he knew weren’t his and slicking his thighs.

As soon as the blankets collapsed around him, onto the floor, Spike felt himself being coaxed upward—onto the bed, which was saturated in all the alphas’ scents and still had the underlying aroma of his own pheromones.

They all managed to fit on the queen mattress, somehow, pressed tight together where any patch of Spike’s skin was in contact with one of his alpha’s.

Especially Greg, who was leaning down over him—in all his naked glory, unabashed—and suckling bruises onto the brunette’s collar bone. Teeth nipped at the omega’s skin, leaving small marks that promised what was to come, and hands trailed over flesh leaving imprints and loving bruises. His clothes—well, his alphas’ clothes that they’d put on him—were quickly pulled off as the three men’s hands continued to wander and Spike, like an out of body experience—heard another sharp whine escape his throat.

Surging his hips up, Spike wrapped his toned legs around the older man’s hips and clung on with a bite of his own against the alpha’s shoulder. A sharp growl broke the air, a playful warning, and Greg went to move closer, the brunette took the opportunity presented before him with a grin.

Straining his muscles, the bomb tech bucked against Greg’s moving form and flipped them over—so Spike was sitting across the negotiator’s thighs with a devious smirk while the alpha below him looked on a little shocked before the expression melted into pride.

Ed was barking a laugh, and Sam’s eyes only darkened at the display as the omega’s muscles stressed against his skin.

Too caught up in his victory, Spike didn’t realize that Ed had moved behind him until the omega was shoved forward onto Greg’s chest with his ass still in the air and knees on either side of the negotiator’s legs.

Hands curled against his mate’s pecs, the bomb tech panted as the bald sniper palmed at his cheeks and rumbled happily at the slick dripping from the omega’s hole—leaning forward to lick a stripe of the clear fluid as Spike squealed and shuddered.

“Our mate,” Ed said happily, voice low and deep, as he pressed into the bomb tech with a groan—clutching him by the hips, watching gleefully as Sam gnawed marks onto the omega’s side until the brunette was thrashing and twisting with pleasure. “Would you hold still?” the bald sniper snarled, teasingly, and tightened his hold on Spike’s hips as he nearly threw back his head with a groan when the omega responded by squeezing tight around him. Ed just thrusted harder and faster.

The alpha could feel his knot, pressing insistently against his mate’s rim, starting to swell as Spike whimpered under the attention of the three alphas. Sam’s hands had gone to creasing the omega’s shaking legs, mouth still latched onto flesh as he continued to make dark marks, and Greg was running his hands up and down Spike’s back in a comforting gesture and as a way of spreading his scent all over his mate’s skin.

“Ours,” The negotiator reiterated, moving a hand from Spike’s back to the omega’s head and slowly tilting their mate’s neck to the side as Ed’s knot locked the two together. The sniper pressed himself over Spike, grabbing the brunette’s neck between his teeth, and bit down _hard_. The bomb tech seized up, feeling his alpha spill inside him as the knot pushed feverishly against his walls, and trembled at his own release as the teeth buried in his flesh clamped down tighter.

“You’re mine too, you know,” Spike gasped, letting Ed pull him impossibly close and flop the two onto their sides.

“We know,” Sam nearly purred, watching greedily as Ed licked the blood off his teeth and the ferocious wound on Spike’s neck.

The blonde leaned forward, grabbing at a blank area of flesh with his jaws, and snapped down with all the pressure he could muster—and Spike wailed, clenching hard around Ed and quivering hard against the alphas’ holds. The bald sniper growled loudly, slotting his teeth back into his own mark as Spike thrashed with nowhere to go and the omega’s voice cracked and fell apart.

Ed slipped out from his mate, rubbing his hands over the brunette with a proud smile, and let go of the mating mark for the second time—but Sam kept his mouth fastened shut, sliding into his mate with a rumble of approval. The omega wheezed airily against the sheets, having been pushed back onto his hands and knees from where he’d been snuggled into Ed’s chest, and curled his toes as the blonde’s cock rubbed against his prostate.

The younger sniper was glowing in pride when the omega below him puffed strung-out moans and yips from his throat.

Spike, not one to lay down and let others do all the work, twisted and fought against Sam’s hold with a Cheshire grin and the look of a trouble maker in his eyes. The blonde man swore and snarled, biting down harder on the mating mark, as he tried to keep the omega under him as he chased their release.

The bomb tech’s foot caught Sam’s leg, and the alpha nearly toppled over but instead the sniper managed to catch his balance and drive Spike into the bed—all his weight focused on pinning the omega down, one arm wrapped around his mate’s chest while the other was firmly planted on the bed. Spike wiggled, but a particularly sharp thrust sent him even further into the sheets—he had to turn his head to the side to breathe, and it made the skin pull painfully where Sam was clamped down.

“You didn’t do this for Ed!” The blonde complained, letting go of the bloody bite mark after a particularly severe snap of his teeth, as the bomb tech brazenly tried to squirm again, then his words fell away into repetition, “ _Our mate. Our mate. Our mate—,_ ”

Again, Spike squirmed with a concealed laugh and Sam swore loudly as his cock slipped free of the tight heat he’d been pounding into.

“Guys, help,” The younger sniper whined, but when the two other alphas just laughed at him—and Spike snickered too—he just tried to tighten his hold and slip back into his mate, but the man below him wouldn’t stop moving. “God damn it, Spike, stay still!”

The omega smirked at his blonde alpha, shaking his hips, but let his lover slip back inside him—toning down his twisting to a manageable level. Sam groaned in pleasure, tense from head to toe as he was careful to keep his grip on the omega, and huffed sharply as his knot began to swell.

With a grunt, the blonde locked inside his omega mate and pressed him against the bed—just about purring with gratification and ease. Spike moaned against the bed, slumping against the sheets as Sam followed him down, and the heat pumping through his blood made him as over sensitive as a live wire.

“Why wouldn’t you stop moving?” The younger sniper muttered into Spike’s neck, and the omega snorted as his body slowly came down from the high—though the heat was still revving his engine, still sending arousal skittering across his nerves.

“What?” The bomb tech laughed, “You can’t handle me?”

Sam glared, blue eyes narrowed, “I still knotted you, didn’t I?” The sniper growled friskily, “Pretty sure that counts as being able to ‘handle’ you.”

“Took you long enough,” Spike purred, but it turned into a sharp bark when Sam’s teeth sunk warningly back into the mark he’d made earlier before the blonde sniper slipped out of the omega, flopping onto the bed and still catching his breath from the effort of keeping Spike in his grasp.

Greg took Sam’s place, his body tense from holding himself back, and thrusted into Spike quickly. The brunette didn’t try and break the negotiator’s hold, just giving into the sensations, and Sam rolled his eyes. Greg’s hold was sure, solid; like he knew Spike wasn’t going to play games with him, that he knew his omega was blissfully content with taking what the negotiator would give him.

“So glad we found you,” the sergeant spoke softly into the omega’s ear, licking at the two bite marks on his mate’s neck before choosing a spot and adding his own—rolling his pelvis against Spike’s ass as he released his teeth from the claim mark.

“I’m glad I found you, too,” Spike whispered, exhausted, as Greg’s thrusts stuttered and a knot swelled inside him for the third time. The alpha lavished the omega’s shoulders with open-mouthed kisses, panting across the sweaty skin, and they both contorted closer as their respective orgasms left them shaky.

“Our omega,” Greg grunted, lying on his side and drawing Spike with him as Ed and Sam crawled closer and wrapped themselves around the tied pair. The three alphas grinned drowsily, drunk on the heat-scent of Spike, at the sheer saturation of their pheromones across their mate’s skin.

“My alphas,” Spike mumbled back, closing his eyes and letting the three huddle close as Greg pulled out of him and the omega was man handled into the middle of the alpha pile—covered in the three, smothering and all too happy, mates.


End file.
